“They’re the same,” he said confidently. “That is to say, they’re not the same

pair that actually made these prints. He went away in those.

 

This is a pair just like them, but older—see how the studs are worn down.”

 

“Surely a great many people wear shoes with rubber studs in them?” asked Poirot.

 

“That’s so, of course,” said the inspector. “I shouldn’t put so much stress on

the footmarks if it wasn’t for everything else.”

 

“A very foolish young man, Captain Ralph Paton,” said Poirot thoughtfully. “To

leave so much evidence of his presence.”

 

“Ah! well,” said the inspector, “it was a dry, fine night, you know. He left no

prints on the terrace or on the graveled path. But, unluckily for him, a spring

must have welled up just lately at the end of the path from the drive. See

here.”

 

A small graveled path joined the terrace a few feet away. In one spot, a few

yards from its termination, the ground was wet and boggy.

 

Crossing this wet place there were again the marks of footsteps, and amongst

them the shoes with rubber studs.

 

Poirot followed the path on a little way, the inspector by his side.